


And Now They're Gone

by Lady_Clow



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Family Feels, Gen, Pre-Canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:09:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27301705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Clow/pseuds/Lady_Clow
Summary: That one time when Somnus was afraid of ghosts, his Brother chased them away. In the future he became an awe-inspiring, terrifying history himself and no one dared to confront him. Until, after what seemed like forever, one ghost from the past comes to him, and Somnus does not have the strength to resist him.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	And Now They're Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my greatest beta [WoodenDeer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoodenDeer/pseuds/WoodenDeer)

When Mama and Papa die, Somnus is only five. He’s old enough to be called ‘Your Highness’ and have a sword. A wooden one, though, which upsets him tremendously. Papa said he’ll have a real one really soon – when he’ll be a grown-up like his Brother. He also said that he and Mama prepared matching swords for them both – because they are a family.

When Mama and Papa die, there are only two of them left. They are everything to each other now.

That night for the first time in his life Somnus is tucked into bed by one of their servants. She’s older than Mama was and her voice is not so melodic like Mama had. Her arms are thinner than Papa’s and she’s not kissing his temple like Papa used to.

She doesn’t read him his favorite book when he’s under the cover, even though he asks her to. She says ‘this is too scare for a child to listen to’ and shakes her head. Somnus frowns and asks her again – it’s his much loved one and he wants to listen.

That’s when she says he needs to behave or the ghosts will come for him. He blinks at her, dumbfounded, because he doesn’t know what ‘ghosts’ is. He doesn’t ask. She’s so grumpy and he doesn’t like her already. She probably will not tell him the truth either way, so he burrows himself under the covers and stays like that.

She mumbles something he can’t hear and he covers his ears with both hands. That’s when she pries the covers open and says he’s not supposed to that or he’ll suffocate. This word he doesn’t know either, so he asks her what does that mean.

It means loosing all his breath and die.

He decides he doesn’t like it. Anxiously, he starts taking really deep breaths to make sure he is not ‘suffocating’. The servant nods and says that he’s doing really well. She even smiles at him, and he thinks that maybe she’s not as grumpy as he thought. So he asks her what ‘ghosts’ is too.

She explains that _those_ are Mama and Papa. They are gauzy and pale and they are drifting in the clouds before flying to the sky where gods are waiting for them.

Somnus thinks about Mama. Her skin was gentle as was her touch and she always smelled so nice, like fruits and sweets. Papa’s skin was ‘kissed by the sun’ – Somnus heard Mama saying this one time. Papa smiled so kindly at that.

He doesn’t like the thought of them being pale now. Does this mean they’re scary now? He asks the servant, and she presses her lips together before saying, “Ghosts are _supposed_ to be scary. So yes, my prince, they are.”

When she finally leaves, he burrows under the covers once again, curling on his side. She took away the candle with her too – Mama always left one near his bed – and now he’s in the darkness. Not complete darkness, there is a blue light from the moon, falling through the curtains on the wall.

Somnus looks at it and think it’s pale. Like ghosts. Like Mama and Papa now.

It’s scary.

He whimpers and closes his eyes tightly.

He’s cold.

And then he isn’t anymore because suddenly it’s warm. He opens his eyes and sniffs, and there is his Brother beside him. He’s looking at him – like Mama always did, gently and tenderly. His skin is like Papa’s – as if the sun kissed it.

“What is it?” his Brother asks, and his voice is so soft and nice like feathers of a chocobo he touched the other day (it was a baby chocobo, he was not allowed to touch the Mama-chocobo because it was really big, but he was fine with baby too).

Somnus sniffs, crawling from under the covers more.

“Mama and Papa are pale now, aren’t they?” he doesn’t want his voice to waver so much, but it does and Somnus feels a heavy weight in his tummy.

Brother looks surprised, his eyes getting a bit bigger. Somnus notices they are the same color as the light of the moon. And as the sky.

Suddenly there are hands on him and he’s being hugged tightly to Brother’s chest. It’s not a big chest, honestly; his Brother is still not a grown-up. Somnus likes it, he’s warm and nice.

“Mama and Papa are in the best place,” Brother tells him and strokes his head. 

Somnus blinks at him:

“They are not ghosts?”

“No,” Brother leans forward and touches Somnus’ forehead with his own. “They are angels now.”

“Is it better than being ghosts?”

“Yes,” Brother sighs, and his breath strokes Somnus face. “It’s much, much better.”

Somnus thinks for a moment or two, brows furrowed in a deep concentration. When he looks up again, the smile is there on his Brother’s face again.

“I’m afraid of ghosts,” Somnus mumbles finally. Papa said that ‘admitting your fears is showing your strength’.

Brother says nothing to it; he just embraces him more tightly and lays them both on the bed. He reads to him his favorite book and strokes his head till Somnus falls asleep.

He dreams of Mama and Papa being angels.

• • • • • • •

He’s not afraid of the prospect that the ones he burned will come to him in pale, gauzy forms. He’s not a child anymore, he doesn’t believe in ghosts. He’s mature enough too forget stupid riddles his old servant told him that one night. He doesn’t need pampering or bedtime stories anymore.

He’s the story people tell each other now. He’s totally fine with that.

Ghosts are not real, there are no such things as ghosts in their world. There are only gods and their will, brought upon humans by Oracle.

He’s not seeing any ghosts when he draws his sword and deals a blow. No one comes to him at nights after that. No dark, groaning shapes, no human forms, no persons with golden hair…

He sees no ghosts—

• • • • • • •

—till that day, thousand years after his death, he sees one.


End file.
